Then Mr. Carson dashed up in a car, and, mounting the steps four at a time, flew into Prokop’s room, which became filled with his sparkling sympathy. He was gay and comradely, chattered all sorts of nonsense at a tremendous speed, and suddenly began to smooth Prokop’s bristly hair in a friendly, and at the same time timid, manner. Prokop forgave his obdurate adversary and tyrant nine-tenths of his sins. Then something heavy was heard coming up the stairs, the door flew open and two lackeys with white gloves led in the crippled Prince. While still at the door he waved a preternaturally long and emaciated hand as if to prevent Prokop out of respect for him rising by some miracle and coming over to greet him; then he allowed himself to be placed on a chair and delivered himself of a few phrases of courtly sympathy.
Scarcely had this apparition disappeared than someone tapped at the door and Mr. Paul whispered something to a chambermaid. A moment after the Princess came in, still in her tennis things, her face expressing a mixture of obstinacy and repentance. She had come voluntarily to apologize for her clumsiness. But before she could say anything Prokop’s homely, hard, roughcast face broke into a childish smile. “Now,” said the proud patient, “am I afraid of a horse or not?”
The Princess blushed so deeply that she became confused and angry with herself. But she soon regained her self-control, and at once became again the charming hostess. She told him that a distinguished surgeon was coming to see him, and inquired what he would like to eat, read, and so on, further instructing Paul to send a report on the patient’s health twice a day. Then, after putting something straight on the bed, she left the room with a brief nod of the head.
When, not long afterwards, the famous surgeon arrived in a car, he was obliged to wait for some hours, however much he might shake his head over it. Mr. Eng. Prokop had fallen into a deep sleep.
XXVIII
Needless to say, the distinguished surgeon did not recognize the work of the military butcher. He stretched out Prokop’s leg again, put it into plaster, and concluded by saying that he would probably be lame for life.
There began for Prokop a succession of delightful and lazy days. Krafft read him passages from Swedenborg and Mr. Paul and others from the Court Calendar, while the Princess saw to it that the patient’s bed was surrounded by a magnificent selection of volumes from the world’s literature. Finally Prokop got tired even of the Calendar, and began to dictate to Krafft a systematic work on destructive chemistry. Curiously enough he became most fond of Carson, whose insolence and lack of consideration impressed him more and more, for beneath it he found the grandiloquent plans and crazy fantasy of an out-and-out international militarist. Mr. Paul was in an ecstasy of delight. He was now indispensable night after night, and could dedicate every breath and every step of his faltering legs to Prokop’s service.
You lie encased in matter, like the stump of a tree; but can you not feel the crepitation of terrible and unknown forces in that inert matter which binds you? You luxuriate on magnificent pillows charged with more power than a cask of dynamite; your body is a sleeping explosive, and even the faded, trembling hand of Mr. Paul contains more explosive force than a capsule of melinite. You lie motionless in an ocean of immeasurable, unanalyzable, unutilized forces; you are surrounded not by the walls of the room, quiet people and the rustling branches of trees, but by an ammunition store, a cosmic magazine prepared for the most frightful deed. You tap matter with your finger as if you were testing casks of ekrasite to see if they are full.
Prokop’s hands had become transparent through lack of use, but on the other hand they had acquired an extraordinary sense of touch. They felt and detected the potential power of detonation of whatever they encountered. A young body had an enormous explosive tension, while Dr. Krafft, an enthusiast and an idealist, had a relatively weak capacity for explosion. Carson’s index of detonation approached that of tetranitraniline, and Prokop recalled with a shudder the cool touch of the Princess’s hand, which revealed to him the terrible explosive power of this haughty amazon. He racked his brains in trying to decide whether the potential explosive energy of the organism depended upon the presence of certain enzymotic or other substances or on
